


Love Hurts

by PixiePocket



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Daryl is an asshole, Eventual Romance, F/M, Kidnapping, Love Prevails, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 05:25:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4816709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PixiePocket/pseuds/PixiePocket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An act of revenge changes everything</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"...and finally, the father of missing Senoia woman, Carol Ann King , has today publicly declared he believes rival businessman, Phillip Blake , owner of a chain of nightclubs in Atlanta and Chicago, is involved in her disappearance...Miss King, who was 29 yesterday, was forcibly removed from the premises of her fathers nightclub, The Sanctuary Lounge, as she locked up on Tuesday night. Mr. Blake was voluntarily questioned yesterday and so far, police are satisfied with his non-involvement. However, Mr. King and his son, have stressed that Philip Blake was never a business rival, and his reputation as a violent, scheming and vengeful man is extremely well publicised in "underground circles."

Mr King himself vanished from the lives of both his children for over fifteen years, presumed dead after Mr Blake himself, ordered his execution. He took exile in an undisclosed location and only returned to his hometown when the falsified news of Mr. Blakes own demise reached him. Says Mr King in a statement issued this morning; "My Princess has been taken for revenge. There is no doubt in my mind that Phillip Blake and his associates are... displeased at my reappearance in the world of the living. The fact I had to hide for so many years means I know there's no way to reason with these men. So they have stolen away the most precious girl in all my world, just to hurt me and my family. I will give them anything they want. I just beg, please... that they do not harm my daughter. I just want my Princess home. Stay strong, Princess. We love you".

Carol forced her eyes shut, blinking back tears as the colours died away from the TV screen. But even then, she couldn't miss the way the tall man lurking menacingly in the corner, was smirking, proud to see the way she weakened. She bristled immediately, holding on to her father's words. Stay strong. If she didn't, she knew she was as good as dead. Not that such threats had come. In fact, there'd been nothing to suggest she was a hostage and not a hotel guest, apart from the fact she had someone twice her height and twice her weight stationed outside her door if she dared to head towards it. So she hadn't. No, Carol had stayed curled up against the large bed she had been shoved roughly against two nights ago. She'd long since abandoned looking out the window, the colour of the thunderous sky making her feel even more out of will. And besides, it had taken precisely thirty seconds of visual assessment to realise she had absolutely no idea where she was. She wouldn't have even known she was still in her home country, had she not been forced to watch all the local news announcements that concerned her.

"Enjoy that little piece did you, Carol Ann? Very moving I thought."

Instinctively, Carol scowled. He made her flesh crawl more and more. She'd always been suspicious of him, hated him even, especially from the moment she believed her dad was gone from her forever. And now, she was terrified it was to be the other way round at the self same hands. And she couldn't let him see it or she knew he'd delight in making her feel every second of physical pain. But then of course, it wasn't really her that he wanted to hurt.

"What's it gonna take Phillip?" she demanded in a low hiss.

He tilted his head back, laughing high and cold. "Always good to be kept in the loop, Carol Ann, I like it."

"Well, c'mon then, tell me!"

He pursed his lips warningly as he levelled his gaze, causing Carol to shiver in repulsion as his pale yet sharp green eyes burnt into her own, eager to seek out her fear, to feed from it. But at that moment, he was too impressed by her demanding tone. He didn't like it, and intended to let her know it, but still, he was impressed. Carol had guts her piteous father had never displayed.

"Careful now-" Blake advised in that deceptively soothing tone. "-I don't think I like what you're getting at. What do you think I'm gonna do Carol Ann? Slice off each of your fingers and send them home to Daddy?"

She recoiled, backed up so hard against the wall as she curled up on the bed that the ridges of her spine were throbbing painfully. But she ignored it, just as she hoped she might learn to ignore everything that was presently happening around her. But Phillip refused to remain just a presence and moved steadily over to sink down upon the mattress. His hand snaked over to claim one of her own, quaking all the more violently as he fought to uncurl each rigid fingertip, stroking down them to separate each finger.

"You have beautiful nails. Very..classy. Oh dear, I hope this little... holiday... won't inconvenience your appointment schedule? Nothing more unattractive than a woman with peeling cuticles..."

"Don't touch me!" Carol spat, wrenching herself away. "What do you want for from me?"

Another smirk mocked her as it sprang up in the corner of his rough lips, "Oh I have everything I want right here, thank you very much..."

An icy sweep rocketed through Carol's tense body. She had understood the suggestion in his tone she thought, and she felt sick with fear. Surely she was wrong? Phillip Blake, also known as 'The Governor', he prided himself on his approach, even to the darkest of activities. Surely he was not so common a criminal as to kidnap a woman, any woman, Carol supposed frightfully, just to...

"...because I've certainly got Daddys attention haven't I?"

Carol hated that she couldn't hold back her terrified tears, hated even more how they burnt at her skin as they slid slowly down her face. Blake seemed to draw some perverse pleasure out of watching the journey of each miserable droplet.

Her throat feeling immediately raw, she murmured; "What are you going to do to me?"

"Do?" Phillip echoed, his broad back straightening in a jolt. He sounded pretty affronted, and Carol was made even more queasy, especially as flecks of spit hit her face. "What sort of man do you think I am?"

She spat out a bitter laugh in reply. "You've kidnapped me! You tried to kill my dad and gave him no choice but to desert his own family. I don't think you're a man at all."

"Well, well-" he answered quietly, sucking in an apprehensive breath. "-we're not all that grateful, are we Carol Ann?" She opened her mouth to vehemently protest, but Phillip lifted a finger to silence her. "We could have done this the usual way you know. Grubby warehouse in the middle of nowhere, you tied to a pillar, weeks of grime in your hair, sitting in your own filth. But I thought no, a lady deserves more, especially on her birthday."

"This is more?" Carol shrieked angrily. "I'm dragged from my home, from my family, with no reason, no explanation. I'm a prisoner."

"Oh yes." He nodded sombrely, lacing his hands together. "We mustn't forget that. Chez Blake, Cava, soft pillows... oh it's tragic."

"You have no idea..."

"No." he agreed again, sighing breathily as he pulled himself up. "I admit, I don't. Got to make that father of yours sweat a little bit. But don't worry, Carol, my boys will look after you."

"I know what "looking after" means to your sort." she hissed accusingly.

Eyes wide, Phillip again was impressed. "My sort?" he echoed. "Now, now, Carol! I'm not about to kill you and I resent the suggestion. Deeply. Killing's so... unnecessary. Let's keep it that way shall we?"

His piercing eyes flashed and Carol read danger, biting into her lip to keep herself quiet as she cast her eyes down to the duvet. Because she knew that Phillip Blake deemed nothing unnecessary in reality.

"Do you want my dad? Is that was this is? Because you know... he'd be here like a shot, he'd let you do whatever you wanted..."

Blake listened steadily. "Have you ever played Trivial Pursuit?" he asked in a humoured whisper as soon as Carol stopped speaking. She jolted at his odd reply.

"What?"

"Can't stand the darn thing myself." He shrugged with a sneer. "It's all too easy. And I'm sure you'll agree Carol, it's no fun winning if the game wasn't a challenge. The last thing I want is your old man making it easy on me. I'd be disappointed if he dared. I intend to enjoy this. Good night."

Without giving Carol the chance to say a word, he swept from the room, the door seemingly opening on his approach and leaving the equally well dressed if not much slender neanderthal stationed on the other side of the door as Carol's own personal guardsmen, to hold it open for his Boss' departure. A wordless understanding seemed to happen between the two of them that Carol could not decipher as Phillip Blake went by and his charge stepped inside the room, stood tall against the wall and leaving his Boss to snap the door decidedly shut.

Listening to Blake's hefty footsteps die away along the landing for a few seconds, Carol threw herself back against the bed, screaming in frustration as fresh tears drenched the pillow her angry fists pounded at.


	2. Chapter 2

"What the hell are you looking at?" Carol roared at her guardian as she rolled helplessly over onto her side. He flinched at her savageness and she sniffled a little less as she sat up again. "Glenn... that's your name isn't it?"

He flinched again, his composure entirely shattered as he turned his head to look quizzically at her.

Taking that as nothing more than confirmation, Carol scooted to the edge of the bed, swinging her bare feet back and forth. "You look how I feel. Assuming that you actually feel of course. I can't be too sure given your line of work."

Glenn looked hesitantly away and remained silent.

"Wow." Carol observed, hunching her shoulders as she continued to look at him. "This could get boring quickly. I mean, how long am I going to be here, Glenn? Oh c'mon, speak will you? Or are you struggling with the number of syllables?"

At that question, Glenn's attention was begrudgingly refocused. "You take the piss."

"Yeah, well, you take hostages so..." And she shrugged, dismissing him. But he was quickly defensive.

"I didn't... I wouldn't..." But he seemed to realise instantly he had said too much and scowled again, biting hard into his lip as he returned to silence. But Carol had heard everything she needed to.

"You must be new..." she said gently. "Not quite made of stone yet huh? You've never broken someone's kneecaps then Glenn? Fired a gun? Ah... I always thought Blake got them young. Well never mind, he's got a lot to teach you. Really must be something in the taste of blood for him."

Carol was sure she saw Glenn's lip quiver, and he was pretty certain of it too, so much so that the only colour left in it was from blood. Sighing heavily, he abandoned his rigid stance and sank down on the bed beside her. Unlike with Blake, she made no effort to escape his proximity. She was too taken by him. He was evidently so young, and yet aged so much by his haggard face. Where anger would have burnt once in his eyes, strong enough to make Blake enthuse about his prospects, tiredness and misunderstanding reigned. Just like Carol, he looked as though he was somewhere he definitely didn't want to be.

"Aren't you scared?"

"Why?" She returned softly. "Are you supposed to make me that way? Because if you are, then we might as well skip the preamble."

But Glenn's eyes shimmered sincerely as he shook his head. "If I knew what he was going do, I'd tell you. But I don't, I really don't. You're a character though, aren't you? Think he likes that you're not a pushover."

"And I should be flattered?"

"No." Glenn blustered guiltily, looking down. "I'm just saying... I don't think he'll hurt you."

Relief momentarily flooded through Carol. She believed him. Maybe because there was little else to believe in right now and besides Blake's, Glenn's had been the only constant face in her life since the night she had been bundled in one painful blur from the club. All she could remember were gruff voices, screams that had probably been her own as she had tried to fight them off, as the walls began to spin. She'd thought they were just after the takings until... well until she had been forced into the back of a car, made to walk by having one of them kick repeatedly at the backs of her legs, a gun pressed into the small of her back, and a heavily gloved hand clamped to her mouth to put pay to any ideas she might have had about screaming.

She might've tried it if she hadn't been so terrified, barely breathing, her chest so tight as a nervous sweat broke out upon her feverish skin that she could barely breathe. She'd been forced to lie down on the back seat, the gun still pressed threateningly into her shuddering body. She could still feel the cool metal as if it had never been pulled back from her form. She had never been so terrified in all her life, the only mercy in that fact being that she was indeed too terrified to even think where all this madness had sprung from. These men had come for her undoubtedly - they hadn't even gone near the till which, since she'd had time to think about it, seemed pretty idiotic to Carol. Shouldn't they at least have tried to disguise the obviousness of her abduction?

But then of course, no. Blake wanted her father's attention. And even she had to admit, this was one fantastically obvious way of getting it. But what could he want from him? The thrill of the chase, procuring the kill? Was he to be the victim in Carol's place? Oh she didn't know, was made too sick to think on it, especially as she looked upon Glenn.

She was right. He did look how she felt. Fragile. And Carol found, strangely, that there was another part of her able to hate Blake on Glenn's behalf. Because whatever happened to her, and the hundreds of others Blake would no doubt find himself in the future, he would also still be looking for the brawn, the help, the muscle, and honing in on weaknesses in men like Glenn and turning them into... killers? Was he to become Carol's own any day soon? Even while considering the likelihood of it, she pitied the man sat beside her, even as fear squirmed in her stomach.

"Well, you best hope so because my guess is, you'll be the lucky guy that gets to do it, and by the looks of it, you're not ready just yet. I think I like that about you, Glenn. Yeah, I think I do."


	3. Chapter 3

11pm

Pushing down the lid of the box that just a few minutes ago housed a perfectly folded cerise silk nightdress and matching sash dressing gown, hand-delivered by Glenn at half past nine just in case she "was ready to get her head down", Carol settled back on the bed, calling gently; "I'm dressed now, Glenn..."

The door-handle tweaked as his pressure from the other side forces it down, sliding back into the room, with the smallest smile. He should smile more often, he looks better for it, she considered. Since they'd dared to begin talking, they hadn't really stopped. She was well aware he could be lying to her, and she'd told him she was prepared to accept the probability of it too. That was when he gave her his saddest smile. But when she answered his questions or just spoke about herself, Carol chose to speak the truth. She didn't see a reason not to. If it was Glenn that was going to have to come to her, hands shaking no doubt and kill her, then shouldn't he just as well know the truth of the person whose life he would be stealing?

Glenn however, did not look murderous in the slightest. His features had softened a lot, were a lot less dark and tired, as if he was unburdened in some way. He'd chosen not to speak of the brutalities of his work, instead told her about himself. He was known as the Karate Kid, because he'd apparently been the youngest person in the state to acquire a black belt. That settled Carol a bit, made Glenn look a lot less vulnerable. He could obviously handle himself well with that kind of credit to his name. So she wondered what could make him so afraid of Blake? And fear was all it could be. She refused to believe respect could feature in any way when Blake thought nothing of these men.

In Glenn's case, it was nothing like that. Apparently, Blake had romanced Glenn's mother. The idea of anyone being taken in by him in such a way made Carol nauseous. But still, the level of their conversation definitely made her feel compassion for him, and a lot less frightened and lonely in his company too. He listened intently as she confessed how worried she was for her father and her brother's state of mind at the moment. To know in herself that she was fine, being treated as well as this was not enough, not while she knew how frantic her family would be. She'd tried not to cry, but the tears had overcome her and Glenn, of course powerless to help, had mumbled something about needing to get back outside.

But there he was now, having obediently stepped outside to allow Carol the privacy to change when she was pretty sure any other watchman would have leered over her readily, and he came forward, his step as rushed as his speech.

"Glenn, slow down... what?"

"They can't know I've got it, do you understand? You have to be quick."

Hastily, he pulled a phone from his deep pocket. Carol's mouth hung agape in wonderment as he pressed it into her shaking hands.

"Call your Dad. Let him know you're OK."

Grateful tears welled in her eyes and she stretched up on her toes to wrap her arms tight around Glenn's neck.

"Thank you..." she whispered sincerely against his ear.

"Don't worry about that." he said dismissively as he pushed her gently back on to the balls of her feet. "Just... make sure you withhold the number alright or I am so much more than a dead man."

Realising how implicitly he meant those last few chilling words, Carol nodded anxiously, head already bowed to stab at the keys as he moved back and sank onto the bed, watching her pace as the call connected.

"Yep?" her father enquired, with the heaviest of sigh's that told her he hadn't slept from the moment she was gone.

But oh, just to hear his voice, she tremored all the more, a lump swelling painfully in her throat as she whispered tenderly; "Dad, it's me..."

"Princess?" he barked desperately, alert now for nothing but the fear that he might lose her again as unexpectedly as she had come. "Who's there with you Princess, is... is Blake there? Oh... Carol!"

"It's alright!" she soothed. "I swear to you, I'm alright. Please don't worry about me. Go to sleep. Both of you. It'll be ok. I love you."

Those last three words had robbed her of breath and she began to choke. She could hear her fathers calls for her response fizzing away in the handset but she simply could not placate him. Glenn leapt up and wrenched the phone from her hand, ending the call and helping her straighten out so that she might force some much needed air into her lungs. He went into the bathroom to get her some water as he advised her to get comfortable on the bed. He could still hear how she was struggling to breathe as he went back and handed her the glass. She took it gratefully into her shaking hands and tried to sip at it. Glenn felt the need to lean forward and support her. Guilt was kicking at him on the inside as he drew back, dropping the covers over Carol's upper body.

"It didn't help, did it?" he questioned mournfully.

But she wriggled round as she buried her head into the pillow and smiled softly. "I think I'll sleep tonight."

"Good." he smiled back and pushed himself up from the bed, leaving the half-drunk glass of water on the bedside table and then going across the room to the door, turning out the light. "Night." And he stepped back out into the corridor, supposing that Carol was asleep before the door clicked shut, leaving her in the complete darkness.

 

2AM

When Carol had fallen asleep hardly mattered. How well she had slept (which was very well, thanks to the bizarre comfort the phone call home had given her) was now too inconsequential. Because the thrashing and painful thudding and angry yelling, no, they weren't confined to her sub-conscious. The darkness in which she found herself was not that or her mind, but of the room itself. It was all real. The thudding was making the wall reverberate and was followed by a painful yell that made her wince. Her head still fuzzy from a little of that much needed sleep, she groped around on the bedside table to flick the switch of the lamp - but instead found her hand colliding forcefully with a glass that with a very rebellious splatter, decided to empty its contents over the side of the little table and onto the carpet.

She cursed beneath her breath, and as the yelling from the landing intensified, she pulled back the duvet and swung her legs to the floor, promptly placing her feet in the wet patch created by the water. She shivered as it seeped through the skin of her toes, but was up too quickly to really register it, flying blindly across the room, slamming into the light switch there and pulling open the door.

"Glenn?"

He was indeed still out on the landing. But he wasn't keeping watch anymore. Oh no. For the pained yells were his, and rightfully so. He was being dragged across the landing by four of Blake's most sour and blood-thirsty henchmen, being beaten in any way and anywhere he could be struck as they went along. Fear beat immediately, making the whole of Carol's body tense. It was her senses that seemed to scream for her as she bolted forward.

"Glenn! Glenn! Oh my God, what are you- stop it! Leave him alone! Glenn!"

She was determined to go after them, but a fifth bully Carol had not registered as the furious hot tears blurred her vision, stepped into her path, holding her back with his large bare arms, almost sounding amused as he said; "Uh, no... I don't think so!"

"Get the hell off me!" she yelled, fighting against his restraint as still Glenn suffered, his torment almost gone from Carol's view. "They're killing him, can't you see they're-"

" 'Nother damn drama queen? Jesus, he knows how to pick 'em."

"A drama queen?" Carol spat viciously as she looked up into his face for the first time and found her palms were itching to smack that smug look right off his face. "Didn't you see what they were doing to him? They were... why were they...? He was supposed to be... looking after me!"

"Yeah." came the dry reply. "He's definitely been lookin' after you, Carol Ann?"

She flinched. "How do you know my name? Who the hell are you?"

But the stranger seemed oddly amused by her venom and nodded towards the room she had flown from in such a panic. "Get back in there an' I'll tell ya. You don't an'.. it ain't gonna be pretty."

"Why?" she demanded. "I get a beating too, do I?"

His face darkened, the corners of his thin lips sinking dramatically. "You mind?" he snapped hotly back. "I do know where the fuckin' line lies!"

"Yeah? In Glenn's skull someplace?"

"Now I know why he likes ya." he observed smoothly. "You're quick, that's good."

"Well, you're an animal. Go and wash the blood off your hands, you spineless pig."

"Got some flair too. This gets better an' better."

"You know what? Men like you make me sick"

"Stop, ya makin' me blush!"

Unable to retain her anger, Carol raised her palm to strike him across the face. But he caught her wrist a moment before contact and the corner of his mouth rose again into that intolerable smirk.

"Gettin' physical already? Well, ain't I the lucky one?"

"Take - your - hands - off- me!" she hissed demandingly.

"Well, that ain't very polite? Seems to me you couldn't wait to have your hands all over me. But I ain't gonna complain."

Carol tore herself from his loosened grasp in disgust and turned away back into her room, bile rising in her throat and tears stinging readily in her eyes as she considered the agonising state poor Glenn must have been in by now. She crashed mindlessly through to the bathroom, scrabbling at a roll of toilet tissue to dab at her eyes. They stung too as they adjusted to the bright light she had forced into the room by pulling on the cord. It was then she froze. The cellphone Glenn had allowed her to use to call home was sat abandoned next to the cold tap.

"Didn't wanna call home again did ya?"

Frightfully, she whirled around to meet the intrusion of the stranger, leant casually against the doorframe, watching her. It made Carol shiver slightly in repulsion. She felt too exposed at the moment.

"I don't remember asking you in here." she hissed in reply. But again, this was somehow comical.

"Yeah well, you ain't callin' the shots now sweet little Glenn's been... displaced are ya?"

This time, her stomach did most definitely jolt she was so sickened by his words, by the sight of him, whoever he might have been - she hated him anyway because he appeared to be revelling so much in Glenn's agony.

"Is that why he's been... beaten to within an inch of his life? Because I made a phone call?"

"Nah." the stranger assured her with a simple shake of the head. A beat of silence followed and then Carol was at last offered an explanation. "S'cause he let ya make a phone call." He mocked a sad look as she recoiled in horror. "Glenn's been stupid."

Carol's mouth went dry. "Are they... Are they going to kill him?"

His burst of laughter was cold. "I don't know what you've been watchin.."

Hatred twisted her stomach. "You just don't care, do you? You couldn't give a shit whether he lives or dies!"

"There are worse ways to go."

She balked, disgusted by his flippancy. "Do you even know who you're talking to?"

"Oh yeah." the stranger grinned, apparently proud to have such information to bestow. "Everyone knows who you are, Carol. King's daughter, right?"

"Yeah... so I was alone half my life thinking my father was murdered by that Bastard Blake. I've seen the worst, sweetheart, but it doesn't make what animals like you do to the likes of Glenn any better! You're evil... I hope you've made him proud." She offered a tight smile and made to shove past, but he stood in her way. She tilted her head up, looking defiantly into his cold eyes. "Or maybe you haven't huh? I mean, what did you do? Stood at the side, never actually getting your hands dirty!"

With a scoff, he rolled his eyes. "Make your god damn mind up. One minute ya screamin' your head off 'cause poor little Glenn gets what's comin' an' the next... you're havin' a go 'cause I weren't the one that dished it out!"

"Get what's coming? Do you even hear yourself? It was a twenty second phone call!"

"There's rules round here, Miss King, Glenn knows it."

"Or at least he will by the time he's had both his legs broken! Where do you get off on that? He's just a young guy for God's sake."

The stranger's face darkened again as he muttered; "We all had to start somewhere, sometime."

"Well your mother must be so proud!"

Carol flinched as the words left her mouth, sure she'd seen his knuckles flex angrily before he hastily rammed his fists deep into his pockets and turned wordlessly from the room, his eyes stormy and... frightening. She had said something wrong, most definitely, the door slamming furiously after the stranger's departure. And she was left alone in the middle of the lit room, shaking ever so slightly in her flimsy nightdress before she managed to pull herself together and decide to clamber into the bed as soon as she had turned the light out.

But the darkness seemed to terrify her more, taunting her as that one face refused to leave her mind, leave her to sleep. She could not get comfortable, finding that somehow, she was disgusted at herself, without quite knowing what she had done. But she knew, especially with what she had seen happen to poor Glenn that whatever it was had been too much. Fear caused her to hate the stranger more. She was adamant she didn't want to see him again. His eyes had been too cold, and his laughter too warm as he had mocked Glenn's agony. Carol held the scrunched duvet in her fist, feeling her tears soak through the material. For the first time, she was afraid. She hoped she'd never see the stranger again. She only wanted to see Glenn.

Please be okay, Glenn... Please be okay.


	4. Chapter 4

he knocking at the door went through Carol's throbbing head like a pneumatic drill, but at least it pulled her readily from her stupor. She had fallen asleep a little after 6am, and didn't feel any better for the hours that had passed. But hope swelled in her tight chest as she pushed back the heavy duvet. She'd only known one person to knock at the door for the whole time she had been here.

"Glenn?" she called out croakily.

The door handle went down willingly. Carol's heart began to pound a little faster than she could bear.

"Uh, no..."

She recoiled immediately in disgust. "Get out."

He shrugged. "Can't. The Governor asked me ta make sure you're okay."

Her shrill cold laughter bounced from the ceiling. "Does he actually think I can be okay? What is okay to you lot? All four limbs attached? Oh yeah, then I'm peachy."

The corner of his mouth lifted into an insincere smile and he turned away, closing the door with a decided click. Carol blinked in surprise, pretty sure she'd asked him to leave.

"He's a'right."

Carol frowned in confusion.

"Glenn."

A cold chill went through Carol as his name was mentioned, her lips quivering as she fought to repeat it. But her attempts were fruitless. "You'd care would you?" she hissed scathingly.

He only blinked and returned steadily; "I thought ya might. Made it to the ER 'bout 5, yeah? He'll be jus' fine."

"Then what?" She demanded. "You welcome him back into the family, just to tear him apart again?"

Shoulders hunched, he replied, "Listen Ma'am you get made to pay for your mistakes 'round here, okay? It ain't pretty but that's jus' the way it is. If Glenn tows the line from now on, there ain't gonna be no more trouble."

But Carol didn't believe him. "How you could do that..."

"Me? Nah, don' wanna get ma hands dirty do I? Was jus' there ta keep you outta it. Can't risk markin' the goods can we?"

Scowling, Carol looked away. This left him to shake his head in disbelief.

"He's right 'bout you? You really are ungrateful."

"Excuse me? What the Hell is there to be grateful for?"

"Golden Boy's alive ain't he?" he snapped back without hesitation. "I didn't have to tell ya shit... in fact, it'll probably cost me a few fractures too, but I thought, nah, the woman's had it rough, give her a break, Daryl, an' what do I get?"

"No more than you deserve!"

"Hey, I coulda let ya throw yourself into that last night. Wouldn't be lookin' at such a pretty face then would I?"

"That's right." Carol hissed, nodding in repulsed understanding. "Because all I am right now is a piece of meat right?"

He laughed again. "You really don't have any idea do ya? Blake's keepin' you like a fuckin' Queen an' right now, I ain't gotta fuckin' clue as to why! You aint no meat. You're mink. If all he wanted from your old man was a pound o' flesh, he'd have jus' had you killed straight off, left you on the floor of that club. But here you are, lap of luxury yeah an' Blake, he ain't battin' an eyelid."

Carol gulped down her mistrust, fear shaking her once again. "Wh-Why not?"

"Goin' through what you have, I can't believe you're so naive." He tilted his head to the side and simpered mockingly as he studied her intently. "It's kinda sweet, really."

"Just tell me what he wants. Please."

Daryl sank down on the edge of the bed, smile broader as Carol flinched, gathering up the thrown back duvet to cover herself. He leant forward and in a low and daunting whisper, still chewing his gum and said; "Bit of a ladykiller is The Governor."

Carol's stomach lurched unfavourably and she pressed her hand over her mouth.

"Hmmm..." Daryl observed, nodding slowly as his gaze lingered on her. "M'guessin' you ain't up to breakfast then?"

"Oh trust me..." She hissed savagely, eyes narrowed in contempt as she pushed her hair back and forced herself to look at him. "...I'd sooner starve. I'd rather die than take anything from animals like you."

"Still gutsy? I like that. Shame it won't last."

"Going to break me into as many pieces as Glenn are you, Well c'mon then!"

He frowned at her, shaking his head at an odd angle. "Don't gimme a reason to hurt ya, Ma'am, I ain't wantin' to do that."

"What?" she goaded sharply. "Am I not good enough now? You and that pack of wolves can tear Glenn to shreds, but I get dragged from my home for some sort of revenge and you... won't even lay a finger on me? You know what..Daryl, you're a disappointment to your trade."

"Ya reckon?" he threw back dangerously. "You can think what you want, it don't matter none to me."

"So make it easy on yourself. No one else here is there? And I... I don't think you like me very much..."

"Not much gets past you, does it?"

"Well, no. Because you're still here. And I'm probably getting right on your last nerve. What happens when you flip, Daryl?"

"A'right!" he barked hotly, leaping up and rounding on her. "Get it into your head, I ain't here to hurt ya. Fuckin' hell, if I was, I woulda done it already jus' to shut ya up! All I'm supposed to do is make sure you're okay."

"Well I'm fine." she spat back.

"Great, so can I go now?"

 

Carol gave him a tight smile as she nodded. "Well either you go or I do. Yeah, the bathroom window's looking more and more inviting..."

Daryl froze, his eyes narrowed as he tried to comprehend the sight of the woman in front of him. "You ain't...?" Without waiting for a reply, he bolted through to the bathroom. "Ya stupid bitch!"

Affronted, Carol climbed up from the bed, quickly pulling on her dressing gown, leaping in fright as the bathroom window slammed shut. Daryl came back into the room with a face like thunder.

"Are you tryin to piss him off? He don't appreciate cliché stunts Ma'am, a'right? They upset him! Do you wanna know what happens when he gets upset?"

"He ruins lives." she answered certainly, shaking furiously. "He murders..."

Daryl ran his tongue over his bottom lip, nodding slowly. "That's right, yeah. An' do ya wanna know who he'll be comin' for? Do ya?"

"Oh for God's sake, calm down. If I wanted both my legs broken, I'd have jumped already wouldn't I? But I haven't! I'm still here, having to suffer assholes like you!"

"Okay, CAROL, now you're annoyin' me."

She stepped confidently forward, tilting her chin up so he might swing at either side of her jaw, or his hands press around her throat. She hated him too much to be afraid of him. "I'm right here, D A R Y L..."

A soft and yet still cold laugh left him at the moment Carol flinched, his hand raised, but not threateningly, his knuckles stroking across her cheek until his palm was caught around her jaw, jerking her head up.

"More than my life's worth than ta touch you. Blake needs ya in perfect condition. He likes you, ya know. Not quite so keen on your Pa but then, he ain't exactly good lookin' is he, whereas you have such a pretty face. Don't make Blake put noses outta joint, sweetheart, 'cause yours will be the first an' that would jus' be tragic."


	5. Chapter 5

That cold smile curving his clean shaven lip, Philip Blake leant across the vast desk, pushing a filled whiskey tumbler towards Daryl as he came, as summoned, through the door. Then settled back, his thick fingers locked together.

"Boss?"

"Ah Daryl, my good man... sit."

Nodding, Daryl took his place in the vacant chair opposite and waited. Straightening his back and taking in one extensive breath, Blake asked; "What do you make of our... guest then, Daryl?"

A sarcastic laugh shook the younger man. "Opinionated, ain't she?"

"Gets that off her father." Philip grumbled.

"So... what you waitin' on exactly?"

"Ah well, see, that bit is entirely up to him. Have to admit, I'm looking forward to seeing what he throws out. It's entertaining tempting desperate men. Besides, we never gave Mr King a homecoming did we?"

The corner of Daryl's mouth instinctively sprang up. "You ain't jus' gonna kill him are ya?"

Philip's smile crashed from his lips. "I never make the same mistake twice, Daryl, never. Obviously, death wasn't agonising enough for this low-life. There are other ways to crucify a man - why else do you think we've got his damn Princess locked away in the tallest tower? He isn't daft, luckily the local cops are-" As Blake smirked, Daryl slid his now empty glass across the table "-but I'd say the only reason Daddy isn't coming haring round here all guns blazing is because he knows that this time, I'd be putting the bullet through his head. Or worse, his little girls'."

But Daryl shook his head dismissively. "You ain't gonna do that."

"What makes you so sure?" Philip questioned quietly, an accusatory flair in his tone.

Daryl however, was unmoved, smiling teasingly. "You like her too much."

Philip laughed gently, a suggestive glint unmissable in his eye. "Yes, there is something about her."

"Yeah, it ain't got nothin' to do with the fact she's the daughter of the man you been wantin' to destroy for fifteen years."

He waved his hand dismissively.

"Irrelevant. Very attractive woman, don't you think?"

Daryl shrugged as he pulled his ever present packet of cigarettes from his pocket, taking one out, popping it in his mouth and letting it rest on his bottom lip. "She's a'right, I suppose. Not exactly outta the ordinary though is she?"

"Two bit whores might do it for you, my boy-"

 

"They're all the same."

Philip ignored this protesting interjection for all but a dark look that resulted in Daryl hastily lighting his cigarette. "-but some of us prefer our women with a look of class."

 

"Whatever."

Philip smirked and tilted his head forward to indicate Daryl himself. "Been giving you what for hasn't she?"

"Doin' my fuckin' head in more like it." he agreed.

"Well, you know what you can do about that."

Against the surface of the desk, Philip's hand promptly curled into a fist. Daryl levelled his gaze to his boss' and pretended not to have seen. Philip of course, noticed, but oddly, nodded in approval.

"Good lad. I like strength in a woman, see. She'll be harder to crack than most, I admire that. And if I'm going to have everything else from her, I might leave her with something. It's Daddy I want."

Daryl blinked, with little more to offer to his understanding. Curiosity burnt inside and he found that now Philip's latest plan was well under way, he couldn't hold it back. "How did you find out where he was?"

Philip sighed heavily. "Thorn in my side that man. Still infuriates me that I didn't manage to get rid of the double-crossing little weasel the first time round. Of course, someone else paid the price, but that still left him at large. He got hit alright, went down with a bullet inside him. But he wasn't out. And you don't get away from that sort of mess without a bit of help do you? And I've always had my suspicions about who helped him. Guess it's pretty fortunate I had a little run-in with Andrea that while back..."

"Andrea?" Daryl echoed, jolting a little as sense was made. "But she's-"

As Philip nodded gravely, Daryl was stunned into silence.

"Police say it was suicide. Tragic really. But still Daryl, you know me, I don't like to argue with the law."

Daryl sat there silently, rigidly, as it all became so clear. Andrea was the one with the answers. Philip was the one with the questions. She'd given, a gun to her head, a knife to her throat, it hardly mattered now. She'd given and Philip... Philip had taken. Daryl remembered well what Blake had done soon after Andrea's death. He'd taken his own little vacation, a few months in Hawaii. They'd carried on without him, directed by Blake's second in command Martinez. There'd been excited whispers in the world around that Philip's ticker had packed up, which Daryl knew was absolute bullshit because Martinez made a point of informing him and a few select others of Blakes' latest instructions. No way was Philip Blake a goner, but, of course. Whispers were supposed to get round... go as far afield as Mr King's door.

Now he was back... and so was Philip. And with Princess Carol in his possession, it was pretty obvious there wasn't room enough for the both of them!

"Well... Miss King is a missin' person now ? The cops are gonna be everywhere lookin' for her. What are we-" At Philip's raised eyebrow, Daryl quickly corrected himself. "-am I supposed to do with her?"

"Nothing. She stays where she is until I say different. Get her what she wants, when she wants it. Be nice... if you can!"

"Imma try." he replied obediently. "She'll know I'm forcin' it though."

"Well don't." Philip warned him sharply. "Learn to like the woman. It'll be good for you... it's not her fault you've got the sensitivity of a gnat, boy."

Daryl laughed dryly, feeling a dismissal in his boss' words and pulling himself up from the chair. "Thanks."

"Well..." he said, sucking in a dramatic sounding breath through his pursed lips as he looked back down to his papers. "...if you don't want the work-"

"Nah, I didn't say that!" he answered defensively. "I'll do it a'right, like you asked. She jus'... rubs me up the wrong way, that's all."

Philip paused and levelled his gaze again, smirking knowingly as he leant back. "You know why that is don't you?"

Daryl remained silent, throwing over an odd look through narrowed eyes as he shook his head in cluelessness.

"She's just like you."

"Yeah!" he scoffed shrilly, not needing a moment to dismiss it. "Her, the classy lady, an' me the brain-dead puppet, with you pullin' my strings? I see that."

"Pulling your strings?" Philip spat, his eyes flaring wildly. "Who do you think you're talking to? You're a very free man, Daryl, you've always known that. You don't like how things work around here, the door's over there."

"People don't walk away from you, no one's that stupid."

"You were beginning to sound it."

"Well I ain't." Daryl assured him flatly. "I know my place, okay?"

"Glad to hear it." Philip replied with a curt nod as he dropped his gaze to the papers again.

Daryl sighed and stepped back towards the door. His hand closing around the handle, he glanced back. "I don't... have to do anythin' else, do I? With her?"

"Well of course you do!" came the bright reply. "You look Daryl, you don't touch, understand? That pleasure's mine."

"What are yo-?"

"Ah-ah!" Philip raised one finger, waggling it in dismissal. "Can't have you ruining the surprise now can I? Now go."


	6. Chapter 6

Stood rigid against the wall, Daryl somehow found he couldn't take his eyes from Carol. Maybe it was just because her face wore a comically sour expression. The silence was literally killing him through boredom. He'd rather they'd descended into another sniping match by now, at least they were entertaining. She'd been sat hunched on the bed for the last three hours, scowling at him. He'd long since stopped being amused by her sullenness.

"Oh c'mon!" he sighed in exasperation, pulling back. "Are you seriously gonna spend lord knows how many days just givin' me the evils?"

"I have nothing to say to you." she snapped back.

"Yeah well, right now I don't give a shit, 'cause I can't stand this silence."

"What do you want then Daryl? Tell me, what can I possibly do to make this easier on you?"

But he didn't flinch at her savage tone. He smirked, welcoming it. "Keep talkin'." he advised with a tilt of his head before taking another steady breath. "I reckon you can get there."

"You disgust me, y'know that?"

"Well I ain't here to be your best friend, sweetheart."

"So what are you here for? Besides to stop me jumping out the bathroom window? Because you know what... you haven't shifted... you've barely even blinked. And I despise having someone stood over me twenty-four-seven, my dad could tell you that!"

She whimpered as the word left her mouth, pressing her hand over to stifle the miserable sound.

"I hate this. I hate it! What did I do?"

Straightening up away from the wall, Daryl shrugged awkwardly. "I don't know. You were there, I guess. Easy..."

Carol's watery eyes flashed in disgust as she recoiled. "Is that what this is? Because you can forget that thought right now! You might be used to beating people for a living, but believe me, you come near me, and you might pick up a few tips!"

"No, I don't mean-"

"Won't look that great in the press will it? Kidnapped, raped and murdered... because I was expecting at least two of the three..."

Daryl flinched, lips twisted in repulsion as he glared back at her. "What the hell do you think I am?"

"Do I look like I know? I know what you want Daryl, because I know what Blake wants. You want me to be terrified. Of what I don't know. Because you... you could tear me into tiny bloody pieces. We both know that. You could do it any time. That's what you're here for. Can't take your eyes off me in case I disappear. What's your game plan, hmmm? Are you going to bother sweetening me up first? Want my trust? Or are you just going to wait until I dare to close my eyes? Make it easy on your conscience. Or don't you have one anymore? How long have you been here, Daryl? How long have you been this cold?"

"You ain't gettin' shit from me." Daryl spat viciously, shaking his head.

"Then we know where we stand? I don't care about you, I'll never care about animals like you. All that matters to me is my family. What is this here? This isn't a family. It's a cold, brutal nothing. What does that make you?"

"Me? Safe, sweetheart. What 'bout you? Nervous yet? 'Cause when it comes down to it, everyone gets what's comin'. Includin' your Pa."

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Carol screamed defensively.

"No! I don't. But... he will. What do ya fancy, ringside seats? Ask me nicely, I'll even hold your hand all the way through."

Her lip curled, she lunged forward and struck him hard across the face, gratified to hear him wince as her shapely nails cut deep into his flesh.

"Well..." Daryl mused, staring at the speckles of blood glistening on his fingertips. "...that weren't very nice, were it Carol? This ain't good..."

"Whatever you've been told to do, do it! Now. I'm not afraid of you, sorry. All I can do is pity you. Great big monster breathing down your neck from what age huh... sixteen? Making you too scared to live life, so that the only way is to destroy everyone else's. Well I'm the one that's here now, so c'mon, give me your best damn shot! Imagine I'm my dad, let your imagination run wild. Or just your fists if you like, I'm not fussed. But don't you ever threaten or even talk about my dad! You're not fit! You're not fit for anything!"

"Don't push me Carol."

"Oh, but I'd love to! Which button is it now? C'mon Daryl, I'm so interested!"

He turned away and concentrated on training his breathing because he could feel the tension winding in the centre of his chest.

"What kind of man turns his back? Are you losing it Daryl? Well enjoy it sweetie, because my dad will tear you into shreds. He loves me. Like no one would ever dare love you!"

Carol herself jumped back in alarm as Daryl whirled around again, shivering furiously as fire raged in his eyes. She couldn't move quickly enough, unable to assess him and found herself thrown hard against the wall, Daryl's rough hand jerking her head up as it closed around her throat.

"Do you wanna taster? 'Cause I've got the full menu up here, an' I know Mr Blake would rather you tried a bit of everythin'. He thinks you're a bit like that. Is he right Carol? Can have anythin' you want, he says. I'm the asshole that has to give you it! An' fuckin' hell, I know what I wanna give you right now. You need to learn when to shut that nasty lil' mouth of yours... split lips ain't attractive. An' believe me, that's kindness. You don' know me, an' you can't guess me so don' try! You're makin' me angry an' if I lose my temper, your Daddy ain't gonna see you in this pretty piece ever again. So let's try an' keep it friendly yeah?"

Carol tried to turn her head away, but Daryl pulled her back to his gaze, his cold eyes glittering so manically that her stomach squirmed with an untold fear.

"Yeah?"

Shaking, Carol nodded desperately, a painful twinge shooting up her neck. "Y-Yes." she stammered in a broken whisper.

"Fuckin' great." he replied flatly, shoving her away. "So let's start again. No point in makin' yourself miserable, Carol. Me an' you... we got Philip fuckin' Blake for that shit."


	7. Chapter 7

Not a word was said between the two of them after that. Not one. Carol had been terrified into silence. Daryl no longer made the effort to stay within the room, relegating himself to the corridor. Carol spent the hours that trudged by staring miserably at the walls, hunched over her bent knees just wishing she could cry. She needed to know there was some emotion still inside her, terrified further to consider that to have been in such company for these few days that she was becoming like them. She didn't want to be cold. What she really wanted was to stop shaking so violently and to sob her wasted heart out. But she hadn't dared because the last thing she wanted was to be heard, ridiculed by anyone. Especially not him. Because now... he did scare her a little.

She'd seen the white-hot venom in his eyes and alone now, couldn't help but wonder what it was she had been probing so viciously in his life that he might throw her against the wall, truly hating her, perhaps needing to threaten her. Oh, and he'd definitely done that, the flesh of her neck still tender and sore as the angry bruise undoubtedly formed. She could almost feel his hand tightening around her throat as the pain coursed. And yet she felt nothing towards him. Nothing more hateful and nothing less.

She'd simply stayed hunched on the bed, watching the clock, waiting for nothing and no one.

It had been about half past eleven when she leapt a foot off the bed in fright, forced to register the activity around her once again as the door crashed open. She recoiled immediately, the need to protect herself instinctive. Because the man that stood in the doorway was not one she knew, and she could feel inside that he also was not one she wanted to know. There was something about him that was all wrong. And the fear itself was sickening.

He'd given her a cold, toothy smile that made her feel like she wanted to retch. He swaggered over and dropped two very expensive looking bottles of wine on the bed before pulling a corkscrew out of his deep pocket and swinging it menacingly. She flinched and that toothy sneer mocked her. God knows how much ale was stale on his breath as he leaned in towards her and leered; "Something Mr Blake wants you to have, gorgeous." His eyes never moving higher than her breasts, he added; "Wouldn't mind a bit myself."

The look on Carol's face was all he needed to recognise how repulsed she was, but that seemed to make his grin wider. Thankfully, her flesh was allowed to crawl a little less as he drawed back. She had expected so much worse. Well, maybe not from...

She felt her stomach jolt. "Wh-Where's Daryl?"

"Dixon?" the intruder puffed. "Out on some business? And that isn't any of yours." he added warningly. Carol dropped her gaze obediently, careful not to raise it should bile come up in her throat at the sight of him. "It's just you and me tonight babe."

"No thanks." She shivered with a scowl. "I don't fancy the company."

"That's a shame, the company definitely fancies you."

His grubby finger trailed down her chest and as it skimmed across her breasts, she shoved it roughly away. "I'd rather you killed me first."

"Oooh." he winced playfully. "Saying it like you mean it? Don't tease me, babe, don't tease me."

And he backed out of the room, blowing her a kiss. She turned her head away in disgust, waiting for the door to click shut before she found herself betraying her every instinct and principal - she agreed with Philip Blake. It might well have been time to get blind drunk. The lack of glasses did not pass her by as she set roughly to work with the corkscrew and neither did the possibility that the liquid was laced with something. But she drank it down steadily from the bottle anyway, hardly caring. Maybe she was bored of loneliness, of this nothingness.

The two bottles saw her through to the first minutes of the new day, and Carol's head was happily clouded with drunkenness as she slumped back on the bed, cradling the bottle like a child. She laughed to herself about nothing at all, relieved to feel something that so willingly masqueraded as happiness inside her. She was normal again.

She heard the door handle creak, but couldn't even be bothered to entertain the idea of turning her head to take in the presence of the intruder.

"Oh... you're still awake."

The voice registering, She jumped a little, snapping her head round. She bit down into her lip, needing desperately to keep down the relief she felt.

"Hello Dixon, Where's Shrek?"

"Shane ya mean? Off to get his beauty sleep. Kinda needs it, don't you think? An' it's Daryl."

Carol nodded. "I'd offer you a drink, but there-" Giggling she glanced pointedly between the two drained bottles. "-there isn't any!"

Smirking, Daryl glanced at the floor, shaking his head. "Not big on wine, don't worry."

"Oh I wasn't worried." she assured him brightly, shrugging. "Why?" Suspicion, Daryl saw, flashed in her eyes. "Should I have been?"

"Who are you, my Mama?"

"Would she have been worried about what you've been doing? Really? What was it tonight? Robbery? ABH? Manslaughter?"

Daryl tilted his head back and laughed dismissively, obviously humoured by her attitude. "Yeah. Of course. Me an' a couple of the boys went downtown, an' pinched a few old ladies handbags. Then we sold a crack haul to a load of teenage zombies on the stairs. Then when they couldn't pay, we roughed 'em up for a bit of light relief, y'know? Not sure how many of 'em still have pulses, but... shit... you're jus' never gonna have any idea are ya?"

"Where have you been?" She demanded.

"What's it to you?!" he snapped back. "Stop with the fuckin' questions? I can't stand talkin' to drunks, they do my head in."

"Well excuse me for needing a little pick-me-up, not exactly having the time of my life here!"

But Daryl rolled his eyes. "Do you wanna know how much worse it gets? 'Cause y'know what, I'd tell you if I thought you could take it. But Philip would go spare if ya threw up on these carpets. An' I reckon you would. Get it?"

Scowling, not quite able to look him in the eye, Carol nodded and winced as a flame of pain shot up her neck, her hand flying up instinctively to rub it gingerly.

Daryl frowned in confusion. She smiled weakly and looked away again. She continued to rub at her neck in wider circles, the movement of her hand displacing the curtain of her curls and revealing the large, angry bruise.

"Fuck..." Daryl's mouth went dry. "Did I...?"

Biting hard into her lip to keep any accompanying words back, she nodded, wishing she hadn't and wincing as the pain came again.

"I shouldn' have..." he mumbled distractedly after a few minutes, rolling the other empty wine bottle between his hands.

"But you did." she stated simply, shrugging.

"S'way over the line."

"Oh shut up." Carol scoffed. "You don't know where the line is. That's why you live like you live!"

"Don't blame the lifestyle. Fuck, even Blake knows there's some things you jus' don't do to a woman. An' me? I've done one of 'em right there." His guilty eyes traced out the mark. "I didn't mean-"

"Yes you did. You have to. Everyone gets what's coming don't they?"

"Yeah, I guess."

As Daryl smiled uneasily, Carol was staggered to find the same expression had stolen her own lips as they looked at each other. For a second, it was almost as if they understood one another but it disappeared quickly enough however and unease swamped her.

"What does he want, Daryl? From me?"

"I don' know." he answered honestly, not quite comprehending how the need to be such had overwhelmed him. It never had before - Daryl's skill at deceit was what set him apart in this world. And yet to her, he couldn't lie. Maybe it was the fright in her eyes. He'd seen it in too many other faces not to understand it on some level, however cold he was. "I don't think he'll hurt ya none."

But she couldn't be placated, hugging her knees anxiously. "But you don't know do you? No one can know Philip Blake. Because that's what Glenn said, and where's he right now? Where did you send him?"

"I told ya... he'll be a'right."

"That's not the point!" she cried out desperately. "It's not just Glenn... or...me - it's my Dad, it's my brother and I'm scared! Scared I'll never... oh I don't know!"

"Carol..." he began uneasily, tugging the bottle from her hand. "...you're drunk."

"Oh so what? You're gonna kill me anyway right?"

"I said... I ain't here to hurt ya."

"Well I don't believe you."

"Jesus Christ..." he muttered hotly, pulling himself up from the bed, an empty wine bottle swinging from each hand. "You think if I was meant to, I'd have waited this long? You do my head in! But you never lay your hands on a woman. You jus' don't. An' it don't matter whether you believe this or not, but m'sorry. I really shouldn't have lost my temper like that."

"You've had the frighteners put on you." Carol said thoughtfully, scooting forward towards the end of the bed.

But Daryl just laughed weakly. "Listen to yourself will ya? The frighteners? Do y'know what they mean to men like Blake? Yearly stints in Intensive Care usually cover it. An' in case you hadn't noticed, I still have the use of both my legs. Lucky old me eh? Still, clock's tickin' right? I shouldn't have touched you."

Carol's expression was unchanged and he sighed gently, understanding as he turned towards the door.

"Daryl?"

"Hmmm?"

"You'll be alright, won't you?"

He tilted his head, the smirk in the corner of his mouth definitely one of disbelief. It almost sounded as if she was scared of the possibility enough to care, but he'd been alive long enough to know it was never going to be true, especially in the case of the first woman whose throat had so obviously suffered by his own hands. He felt sickened at himself, not least because he knew the ways in which he would be made to suffer and yet somehow, what he felt towards her hardly allowed him to feel that way at all.

He pushed down the door handle and pushed open the door with his elbow, giving her a tight smile as he hunched his shoulders.

"Don't matter none, does it? Neither of us care."


	8. Chapter 8

Daryl turned from the room, carefully shutting the door on the darkened room and thinking that was it - that he was simply turning in for his only available variation of a quiet night. He was very wrong. Slumped against the smooth wall, he found Carol staring at him, almost in disgust in the doorway.

He waved his hand, "'M sorry." he said casually. "I didn't realise we weren't done."

Her scowl only tightened. She drew the door closed behind her and stood against the opposite wall, never taking her glazed and mistrusting eyes from his form. "What's the matter with you?" she demanded in a sharp hiss.

He felt just the one corner of his mouth rise insincerely into a half smile as he tilted his head back against the wall. "Maybe you should try thinkin' what ain't the matter with me?"

Carol scoffed, nodding knowingly. "Oh come on then... let's hear it. Bad childhood right? Wore you down, made you weak?"

His eyes flashed again, but she dismissed it simply, too involved in challenging him.

"What the fuck is it with ya?" he hissed warningly. "If you was pullin' this shit on anyone else, you'd be hard pushed to find a pulse by now, y'know that? I'm a nice guy, Carol a'right and you're seriously tryin' my patience right now."

"Then put me in my place!" Carol goaded. She hadn't meant to become drawn into another one of these exchanges, especially not so soon, but there was just something about him which meant she couldn't stop herself.

Scowling, Daryl looked down, sucking hard on his lip. "I told ya..." he said darkly, "...more than my life's worth."

She pursed her dry lips, mocking him with one simpering glance as she tilted her head to the side. "Then maybe you should learn to control your bastard temper hmmm?"

 

She purposely pulled her hair back from her neck, letting it rest behind her shoulders so that the slope of it was entirely exposed. She was sure she saw him bite harder into his lip as he continued to stare at the floor. "What happened to not marking the goods? You hurt me, Daryl..."

"You were askin' for it." he growled accusingly wincing as he caught sound of his name. As it happened, Carol half agreed with him but didn't miss the way his stormy eyes refused to settle on her neck.

Laughing quietly, she let her hair hang naturally and looked piteously upon him. "It isn't you playing God though is it? It's me, right up until the second you put a bullet through my head or whatever the hell else you were doing downtown."

"I told ya-" he repeated angrily as he straightened his back ready to defend himself. "I ain't-"

"But what if I am?" She challenged stiffly. "What if I want to hurt you back?"

Daryl shrugged lazily. "I ain't gonna stop you. An' the good news is, havin' blood on your hands never goes outta fashion, so congrats."

"So he would kill you then?"

"Oh yeah. Slowly. Painfully. He's pretty imaginative."

Carol shook her head sadly, eyes narrowed as she tried to comprehend the man in front of her. "Why does he have so much power over you?"

His soft laugh was cold, born simply to mock her. "Y'know what I can't stand 'bout you Carol? I mean, really can't stand? You gotta really sugary voice. Make out you're all heart, an' y'know what? You're jus' as cold as the rest of us!"

"Us?" she spat fiercely. "I'm nothing like you. I'll never... I don't have to half kill people to get through every day!"

"Don't you dare judge me, 'cause you don't know shit, a'right? What do ya think would happen if I didn't... didn't-"

"I don't care." she looked away in disgust.

"You don' have to." Daryl seethed resentfully. "You're gonna get outta here fine, go back to people that love ya. An' the rest of us? We're here until the day we die. Don't know when that is 'xactly either. Blake's probably crossin' off the days on a desk calendar. But this... it's life."

"But there's... a world out there." Carol began to tremble, inwardly kicking herself as she realised how naive the words sounded, even just leaving her mouth.

"You obviously ain't been out in it much have ya? No one else lives outta a picture book Carol. The whole fuckin' world is cruel an' ugly. You jus' have to get used to it. You look out for number one. Nothin' else to do."

Carol sighed heavily and slid down the wall to the floor. He threw her an odd look as she looked up at him, knees bent up to her chest.

"So this-" she began with a defeated gesture. "-this is all you ever wanted to be, what you wanted out of life? Just to be another one of that mans thugs? Where's your drive? Your ambition to do... anything?"

"I made it to 21, didn't I? Not even sure I'm worth that. But yeah, I gave up hopin' a long ago."

"Well then... nothing in your life means a thing to you. You're just waiting for your number to be up!"

Daryl smiled wryly and straightened up away from the wall, settling himself down on the carpet beside her. "Yeah. You're gettin' there."

"That's horrible."

"Well, I weren't expectin' a bed o' roses..."

But Carol was barely listening, too content with studying his face and suddenly realising how drained he looked. "What are you doing here, Daryl?"

Resting his head against the wall, hearing his name from her lips again, he turned to look at her, giving her a weak smile as he hunched his shoulders for a moment. " 'M obligated. I got this feelin' you're tryin' to make me better than I am. Don't bother Carol, yeah? I was past redemption before I was in double figures. This is jus' what I have to do. There ain't nothin' out there for guys like me. I jus' hope I piss off memorably y'know? Doubt Blake would do me the honour though. An' when it's your time, I'm guessin' there ain't much time to think 'bout where ya'd like your body parts to be found. I'll find out soon enough."

"Don't talk like that." Carol pleaded shakily, ill feeling swirling readily in her stomach.

Daryl shrugged. His chosen topic of conversation didn't seem to be causing him the slightest bit of unease.

" Philip... trusts you, doesn't he?"

"Blake? Trust? Nah. It's do or die round here - your old man must be the only man in history that's managed to do both. I think I like that."

 

Seeing the pain that swept across her face at the mention of her father, Daryl straightened his head and concentrated on a spot on the opposite wall. "Blake picks us all off in the end. I suppose he gets bored. An' I've been round it all my life. He must be sick of the sight of me. So yeah, whatever. I ain't fussed."

Carol flinched, feeling sicker and sicker. "How can you say that?"

His neck jerked and his eyes burnt into hers again, telling her simply; " I jus' can."

Something new kicked inside of her. Sympathy.

That was until fear shook her. She almost screamed at the shrill sound that shattered their uneasy tranquility, only managing to bite it back as she realised it was his phone. He leapt up like someone had just dropped scalding water in his lap, frenzied as he tugged the handset from his back pocket. Her stomach muscles tightened frightfully as she watched him. He could feel her eyes upon him and turned away anxiously, striding up the length of the corridor to be out of her earshot as he accepted the call.

But Carol refused to be shaken off. Her eyes itched with tiredness, her head had begun to throb as was her level of drunkenness. These were the things that told her how late it was. She could feel that for him to receive a call so late meant bad things and mistrust was threatening to tear apart the every conflicting emotions that had presented themselves in these last few minutes. And somehow, she didn't want that to happen. Daryl was the man that held her life in his hands and she wanted to be able to trust him. She couldn't quite make herself believe she liked him, but she knew how true it was when he said to her that so much worse could have happened to her by now.

But maybe this was it. She crept closer and closer to where he stood in the middle of the dimly lit hallway, not saying a word, head bowed as he listened intently to his instructions. And maybe the instruction was her. To silence her... to get rid of her.

Catching sight of her creeping ever closer out the corner of his eyes, Daryl glared at her, frowning and therefore warning her off without words. But she tilted her chin defiantly, listening to him murmur;

"Be right there. Yep."

He clicked the phone shut and released a heavy sigh as he clutched it tight in his fist. Animation flooding through his body as if a switch had been flicked inside him, he spun round a quarter turn on his heel to face her. Her own troubled breath got logged painfully in her throat as she waited for some sort of furious explosion on his part. Well, really she didn't know what she was expecting, but then she had no idea how a man psyched himself up to commit murder.

"I'll see ya in the mornin', yeah?"

"What?" she bristled, stunned. This definitely wasn't what she had expected. "Why? Where are you going? What was that about?"

Daryl dismissed her frenzied questioning with a calm shake of the head, even before she had finished speaking. Blanching his lip, he said; "G'night Carol."

"No! No, this isn't right!"

Growling quietly in irritation, he pushed past her and forced open the door to her room, standing against it to hold it that way and looking at her in a way that said he had no time to wait for her to pass through.

"This is Philip fuckin' Blake we're talkin' 'bout, course it ain't right! Now for fuck's sake, jus' do what I'm askin' yeah?"

Scowling, she stomped past and threw herself dramatically on the bed. Daryl, however, smiled apprehensively.

"Thank you..."

Carol sat there, her spine rigid with fear as she soundlessly counted the seconds away. The door clicked shut, Daryl's footsteps faded away along the landing... and she stood up. She went across the dark room, groping blindly for the door handle, her sweaty palm pulling it down. She winced as the door creaked on its hinges, but with one daring peek found that with his departure, the hallway was deserted. Her heart beating dangerously fast against her ribs as she went the way Daryl had gone.

But all the doors were closed and she didn't dare open a single one. Instead she crept down the staircase, her steps feather-light in her bare feet. She turned the corner to continue down the flight and found that the fire door was swinging noisily on its hinges in the night breeze. Carol stepped towards it, suddenly desperately aware she hadn't felt true air upon her skin in days. Nothing else seemed to matter much in comparison. Cautiously, she pushed against the bar and stepped out, the cool stone of the outer staircase soothing her burning soles.

There was nothing much to be seen around. Expanses of potholed tarmac held pools of the moonlight. Vines seemed to tumbling off the side of the crumbling building. She wondered if it looked this bad from the outside, in the hope that everyone in the real world would pass it by, considering it disused and unimportant - and indeed not done up in grandeur on the inside to accommodate hostages!

But she didn't care. To her, it was beautiful, and had it not been for the high security fences around the perimeter, making this place feel even more like a prison, she might really have believed she was free. And to some extent, she was. For the moment anyway and to hell with the consequences. She considered this whole situation only held one consequence for her anyway.

So she settled herself on the top stair and tilted her head up, allowing the gentle breeze to kiss her face as it danced along. And at long last, she found some company - the millions of stars twinkling in the sky. They were still so beautiful and nothing about her surroundings could change that.

 

Unlike Daryl, Carol wasn't ready to give up hope.


	9. Chapter 9

Daryl sighed heavily as he walked across the wrecked tarmac. This was the last fuckin' thing he needed. He tilted his head to the side, massaging roughly at the stiff muscles of his neck. His hand dropped away into his pocket and withdrew a heavy pair of leather gloves. His knuckles seemed to throb in protest as he was left with no choice but to pull them on. He'd been a bit of an idiot really, thinking that his only charge for the next few days, weeks, whatever, would be Carol alone. It was a shame, he was just starting to get into it, their hourly spats and all that. There were so many sides to her. He didn't think he could force himself to get on with a single one, but it was good to be unpredictable. He knew that well. There was little other reason he had survived so long.

But at the same time, he hated how damn right she was. Naive, sheltered Carol was right. Just another of Blake's thugs. A cold brutal nothing. He tried to shake the words away as he slowed up, sheer emptiness surrounding him as he waited. But he somehow couldn't. One of the first things he'd learnt in this life was to trust no one and nothing. And yet he still knew she was right. He didn't want to be nothing, but he knew it was far too late to hope to be something. This was all he was now. He lived in a spiral turned by respect. And unless he wanted to slide down into oblivion, he had to earn the respect he was due. And he'd learnt one failsafe way of getting it. And the rule wasn't so much "If it ain't broke, don't fix it!" as "If it ain't broke, then fuckin' break it."

He didn't turn around as a pained groan filled the air. He closed his eyes and pretended he hadn't heard it, but the adrenaline pumping a little faster through his system now betrayed him.

The voice shook with fear, speaking with a heavy Georgian lilt. "I'm sorry! Please! No.. no.."

He was promptly silenced by the two burly men that only managed to keep their victim on his own two feet by kicking him repeatedly in the shins to force him to place one foot in front of the other.

"Randall Culver." Daryl whispered tiredly to himself, almost wincing in sympathy. "Oh, you fuckin' idiot."

He hit the ground hard as he was thrown down, left to roll around on the tarmac in front of Daryl, screaming in agony.

Daryl took a deep breath and let his mind close off completely. There was no way he could do this consciously. There were some out there that deserved their punishments when they were delivered and there were some that he pitied for ever having met The Gov. Randall was one of the latter.

He'd bolted from Georgia when he was barely fifteen, certain that his drunken father would kill him when their next brawl came. His Mama, a woman everyone around knew he idolised was presumed dead, so vicious were her share in the beatings. Randall's father had said she'd run off with a city banker but Randall had protested this until he was spitting blood. Literally, Daryl had seen it the first time the man had fallen foul of Blake's many intricate, ever changing rules.

The worst thing to have in this life was a weakness. Randall's was his Mama. Daryl envied that somehow, but knew to keep it down. Because Blake, oh he used it, towering above the man, sprawled on the floor precisely as he was right now in fact and goading him even as he was beaten from all sides, calling his Ma everything imaginable. Daryl had always wondered how Philip Blake had managed to forge such steadfast and savage opinions of people he had never met.

And to begin with, Randall had screamed angrily back at Blake, needing to defend his Mama. After all, everyone also knew that the last he had seen of his mother, her body was shielding his as she screamed at his raging father that to get to their son, he'd have to kill her first. After that, Randall had been forced from the room and left to bury his head under a pillow and try and block out her screams. Blake didn't appreciate the will the man still had inside him, and his anger was beaten savagely out of him. He hadn't been a part of that first attack. He'd been stood rigid against the wall, unable to do little more than blink in horror. Randall had been left a mass of broken bones on the warehouse floor, his ribs never likely to heal and his mouth filled with blood and smashed teeth. And no one seemed to give a damn. Therefore, Daryl couldn't either.

"Get up." he hissed.

Randall was promptly dragged up. Daryl bit into his lip to hold back a wince. He was trying to help the man, really. Surely it was better to die standing. Living on his knees had never gotten this man anywhere. Anger had kept him alive day to day, in fact a rather bloody brawl when Randall was a little off sixteen had been what had gotten him noticed by Blake in the first place. And once that happened, there was no escape. At least not until the day you died.

So Randall... he'd be set free tonight.

"Why don't ya ever learn?" he demanded, stepping close and tilting up Randall's stubbly chin so savagely that the bones in his neck ground painfully together. "I tried to help you, Randall, remember?"

He whimpered.

"Remember?"

"Yes! Yes! I'm sorry!"

Daryl laughed scornfully. "Well, that ain't ever meant nothin' has it, eh? If you was sorry, you wouldn't have repaid me like this! I stuck my neck out for you 'cause I thought you was better! I thought you had the brains not be dragged back! What was it, huh? What?"

He counted ten seconds that were filled only by Randall's whimpering. Without focussing on his face, Daryl swung his fist forward into his stomach. The man slumped to the floor. He flexed his hand, wishing his knuckles would throb a little less.

"You should know not to keep me waitin'..."

His gaze flickered to the two that roughly kept Randall on his feet.

"Slimeball got caught with 50K's worth of Meth in his apartment Boss."

Daryl winced audibly. "Fifty huh, Randy? Oooh, that's gonna hurt."

His two colleagues sneered cruelly and dutifully let their support drop away, leaving Randall's at the mercy of their boss' relentless fists.

"What'd ya get for possession these days huh? Seven... ten years? The shame you're gonna bring on that precious family of yours... your poor wife. That's if you make it to the clink. Not lookin' likely is it?-"

Daryl pretended he couldn't hear bone after bone shattering. He pretended he knew nothing of the pain as his attack continued. Randall's face by now was not only tear-streaked, but dangerously bloody too, left to choke on the forming pool as it poured from his flattened nose and into his reluctant mouth.

"If you'd jus' learn-" he roared angrily as Randall screamed.

"Please! No more! No more! My... my wife!"

Daryl drew back his foot, his victim's body rigid as he awaited the next attack. It didn't come. He crouched down and jerked up Randall's head, holding it roughly in his hands and smearing blood all across the poor man's drenched face.

"She won't wait." Daryl hissed cruelly. "They never do. An' why would she huh? Look at ya, you're an embarrassment. I gave you the chance to be somethin', Randy, anythin'. An' you're nothin'. That's all you're ever gonna be y'know. Worthless scum..."

Daryl shoved Randall away and he landed with a painful thud into his own blood. He bit hesitantly into his lip, finding that one of his workmates had placed a heavy, commanding hand on his shoulder.

"He deserves this, Daryl, man. He let the Boss down."

"Yeah." Daryl answered jerkily, quietly repeating his own words, as if to assure himself that what he was doing was right. "Worthless scum."

" 'Xactly."

Anger roared dangerously in the centre of Daryl's chest. This was one kid he seriously had tried to help. He seemed too young, too fragile to exist here. Nearly ten years later and the thread the bastard had been hanging from had finally snapped. And so had Daryl. Why did he bother? Why had he even bothered to try and help someone, anyone, when this was all he was reduced to in the end.

His lips set in a stiff sneer, he savagely kicked the broken man in the chest, over and over, furious tears pouring from his eyes as he yelled;

"Jus'... like... the... rest... of... us!"

Randall's screams of torment and sheer agony wore on. Daryl's colleagues had to pull him desperately back as his attack intensified.

"Get the fuck off me!" he roared as hands clamoured for him and he still needed his release. This was the only way he knew, the only way it could be. This was supposed to be what they wanted.

"Boss!" Shane, who was exerting way too much pressure on Daryl's right side bellowed in his ear.

"What?"

His gaze lifted anxiously. Daryl's neck ached again as his went too, and he found himself looking into the big, blue brimming eyes of Carol King, flared in repulsion as she looked down from the fire escape on this ugly scene. His glistening lips were set stiff as tears shook her and she tried to hold back a sob, her quivering hand pressed to her mouth to silence herself before one of them might. She'd seen it. What they could truly do. Just to survive.

She flinched as Daryl's eyes settled on hers. She leapt back, her bare feet heavy against the concrete.

She shook all the more, one shattering sob escaping her as he took one instinctive step forward. She backed up against the door and fled back into the building, choking loudly on her sobs.

The help stood at either side slid him an uneasy glance. Daryl's mouth went dry.

"Shit!" he cursed loudly, bolting forward up the staircase, finding now that the adrenaline shook him in the unkindest of ways, his blood pounding away in his ears.

 

"Carol!"


	10. Chapter 10

Daryl's chest was painfully tight by the time he reached her room. But he barely cared. All he wanted to know was that he had truly followed her to the right place. He'd heard her sobs, carried back to him on surrounding air that was barely there to be breathed, and he'd followed them. He didn't know what he was supposed to do exactly when he met them, but Jesus Christ, she'd seen too much.

He knew she could have fled to some part of the building that she didn't know, but considered she'd be too terrified by what she had seen to dare, in case she found herself facing more danger. But, that was never supposed to be it. At least, he didn't think so, not yet. Fuck, he didn't know anything, did he?

"Carol?" he called out breathlessly as he crashed into the dark room.

He cursed hotly under his breath as he turned blindly and kicked the base of the bed hard. Blinking furiously, he realised then that the room was deserted apart from the harsh strip of light pouring out from beneath the bathroom door. Daryl breathed a soundless sigh of relief.

"Carol?"

"Stay away from me!" she yelled venomously, her voice so obviously shattered by the thousands of sobs tearing her own chest open.

Daryl frowned slightly as he found that words for once had failed him. "Look, I-" He sighed heavily, realising he was all out of excuses. "Carol, please... I jus'... I need to talk to you, yeah?"

"Talk?" she shrieked dismissively. "Oh I know what that means Daryl Dixon, I bet you can't wait to lay your hands on me now?"

"No! I ain't.... Carol, open the fuckin' door."

"Fuck you!"

"Then I'll kick it in!" he warned her sharply.

He waited, eyes fixed firmly on the lock. It didn't twist. Irritation flared inside him, and he forced his weight through his shoulder and the door gave way, Carol crying louder and louder as all the fresh sobs threatened to choke her. It took him a few seconds to realise that the scene in front of him was all his fault. Her bare feet were pressed into the bottom of the deep bath, her knees hugged tight against her chest as she perched rigid on the edge, her back pressed against the wall. Tears poured down her flushed, crumpled face by the thousands, her lips twisted in such a way as they quivered that Daryl knew she had long since lost the battle to keep all these ugly sounding sobs in her throat.

He took half a step forward and she almost screamed, backing further up against the wall than it was even possible for her to go.

"Are you... Are you going to do that to me too?"

"No!" he snapped, repulsed. "Carol, you... you weren't supposed to see that, anythin' like that!"

"Wh-What had he done? Why were you-?"

Desperate to not have to answer her, Daryl rounded on her in accusation, demanding; "What were you doin' there, for fuck's sake? I asked you.. I told you to stay here!"

"I thought it was me okay?" she screamed out, coughing dangerously on her next sob. "I thought tonight was me. But you... you left and- why'd you do that? Why?"

" 'Cause I had to."

"No you didn't! You bastard. You just don't care. I was watching Daryl, the whole thing! You did all of that! How'd you feel? Give you some sick little high did it, breaking every bone in his body? Who was that guy? What had he ever done to you?"

Daryl bit into his lip and mumbled guiltily; "It's not about me anymore."

"Who are you?" she demanded through narrowed eyes. "Because I... I thought-"

"What?" he spat dismissively. "What is there to think Carol? I told you, you don' know me!"

"I don't think you know yourself. I don't think you ever have! How do you sleep at night, huh? When you've got blood drying on your hands?"

Her fiery gaze dropped accusingly to the gloves covering his hand. Daryl's stomach lurched as he tore them off. Then he turned over his hands, smirking cruelly as Carol's next breath got lodged painfully in her throat.

"You make me sick. You were going to kill him!"

"So what?" he said stiffly. "You ever thought he might've deserved it?"

"He was begging you! For his wife."

"Yeah." Daryl answered in a scoff. "They all got one when it suits."

"So you're saying he was lying?"

"Won't matter what I say will it, Carol?"

She threw him a dark look, a shock of repulsion shaking her entire body. "Seems to me you do your talking with your fists."

"That's right sweetheart. No feelin' in here, no nothin'. I don' know what it means to break a man, rip his soul in half..."

"Shut up!" she screamed dangerously. "You won't make me believe it, Daryl, never! Because I saw it out there... you're cold, emotionless. Y'know, you're the one that's nothing... you're the one that should be better than this and you're not!"

With an infuriated scream as she tangled her clawed hands in her hair, she buried her face in her knees, sobbing like she might never again. Daryl watched her for a few moments, but his guilt, the tiniest hot prickings of it, died away as the ludicrousness of this scene overwhelmed him. Scoffing bitterly, he shoved the bathroom door so it shut hard; the impact making her scream fearfully, her attention once again on him.

"I ain't cryin' 'bout it." he informed her icily, a sneer twisting his lips. "Should be my call, don't ya think? Or are you there sobbin' for my wounded soul?"

"Don't you dare mock me." she hissed angrily back.

"Then stop makin' it so easy, Carol, you're embarrassin' yourself."

"Embarrassing? Well, I'm so sorry I'm not up to your standards Daryl. Though... just looking at you, I reckon I could be. Yeah! Hateful, violent, murdering scum! Because you'll go back won't you? Once you've shut me up, you'll go back and you'll kill him. I bet you're well on the way to Employee of the Month aren't you? You're pathetic."

"An' you're pushin' it, again" he warned her darkly.

Sniffling to compose herself, Carol lifted her chin defiantly and swung her legs over the side of the bath, sliding onto the floor, straightening her back stiffly.

"Oh, I don't want to push Daryl. I want to hurt you. I really want to put my hands around your throat, like yours were around mine and I want to make you see stars. Painful, glaring stars. I want you to feel pain like that poor man. But I can't do that, can I? Because I'm just another woman. A weak-willed, irritating little woman. And you're going to get rid of me. I don't know how and right now I don't care. I hate you too much."

"You can't hate what you don' know."

"But I wanted to. I wanted to believe I could trust you, just for a second."

"Why?" he demanded coldly, eyes narrowed as he looked back at her. "That ain't what I'm here for, you knew that."

"Well, I know now don't I? You disgust me."

"An' yet..." Daryl said quietly, grappling for control of both her wrists before they again got the idea of striking him. "...I'm all ya got right now."

Forcing her weight forward, Carol pulled back, freeing herself painfully. "The sooner you kill me the better."

He gave her an odd look and started laughing, a cold, calm sound. "Y'know what? I really do like you, Carol. You're impressive."

With a grin, he wrenched open the door and flicked on the light, pacing the well-lit bedroom. Carol, shaking dangerously still, leant heavily against the doorframe as she watched him.

"So how do ya want this, Carol, huh? 'Cause we like to give choices round here. Tell me, what do you fancy, I'll do you anythin' ya want, that's my brief, see. Nice, clean gunshot wound? Head, neck? Knife even? Where would ya like it? 'Cause bein' stabbed in the back ain't metaphorical 'round these parts, I promise..."

Carol somehow found that as she looked at him, she was smirking. She didn't quite know why because in truth, she was terrified. But still, there was just that something about him.

"You're not just going to kill me, Daryl."

"I like how sure you are, sweetheart." His eyes glittered as he stroked his stubbly chin thoughtfully. "You should come back an' watch Randy's encore. Trust me, it's gonna be a killer."

"You're the fucking killer. How many has it been? Whatever number that poor man is, I'd hate to think that when mine's up, it meant nothing to you."

"Ya? Oh... never. Not gonna forget the pretty little Princess now, am I?"

Carol glanced down at the carpet, somehow finding strength in her weakened legs to pick her way across to him as she folded her arms defensively across her chest. "Glad to hear that." she answered softly. "Because I'll never forget you. And neither will the cops when you're through with him down there. You'll be having just as many nightmares about me, Daryl, I promise."

"I don' believe this." he chuckled, highly amused. He really loved how this woman could pick up her own pieces and spring back up fighting. She definitely kept him on his toes. "You threatenin' me?"

"Oh, I don't think we can call it that can we? I'm the victim here." Biting hard into her lip to keep back another shudder of repulsion, she stepped up against his shoulder, her mouth dry and her breath dancing across his neck as she whispered in his ear; "Do what you have to, Daryl, go on. Just remember, I'll still be here, long after you've left me for dead out there. I'll break you, like Blake wishes he could break me. I'll destroy each little part of you, I'll send you crazy, just to justify every life you've ever tainted. Don't forget me, Daryl. Don't ever forget me. I'm never going away."

He shoved her blindly away. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Me? I'm the one with the pretty face. You're the one with the ugly heart."

He turned his head in disgust. "You think you're gonna start pickin' me apart with lines like that? Ah, you disappoint me."

"Well, I would say I'll live but..." She shrugged lazily, scowling over at her captor. "Guess that's not so likely now?"

"You really are askin' for this, ain't ya, honey?"

"And what do you want? More tears? Me begging for my life? Get some sort of kick out of that too?"

Daryl glared at her. She roughly wiped tears away from her eyes, forcing herself to throw back as venomous a look.

"Or do I not look scared enough anymore huh? Make you feel like less of a man?"

"Do you have any idea what's comin' to ya, stupid bitch?"

"In your expert hands, Daryl? I think so."

Casing her shoulders, he pushed her back against the wall. She cried out as she felt were the very large bruises would form, but still she stood straight, her balance only threatened as Daryl pressed his body against hers, pinning her to the wall. She tried to force him off, but of course, he was too strong, one of his hands again around her jaw and moved her head up against the wall, her brimming eyes looked on his.

"Do ya?" he spat. "You have no clue. Me an' you, Carol, we been playin' nice... an' I'm gettin' bored of that now."

With the force of his hand, he twisted her neck so her head rested on the wall as she gasped for breath. She kept an anxious eye on him the whole time, gulping down air as she fought for the strength to look him full in the face again. She refused to let him see her weakened.

"So what is there now?" she gasped. "Because we both know what the end game is."

"That's right." he told her with a slow nod, that insincere smile all in his face that would humour her. "So until then, it's up to you. Wanna play rough... or dirty?"

Carol's heart pounded desperately. Only it wasn't fear that coursed through her as she looked at him, those deep eyes flamed with something so indecipherable, something she needed to understand.

"Both."


	11. Chapter 11

Carol ducked under his arm, after he'd released his grip. When he turned around to face her, she made her move, placing her hands against his chest and pushing him up against the wall with a soft thud. She caught the brief expression of surprise on his face before his eyes darkened with an altogether different look. As she reached up for his mouth, Daryl slid his back down against the wall slightly, shaving an inch or two off his height as he enthusiastically returned her kiss.

Thrusting her tongue into his mouth, she molded her body to his, Daryl's arms wrapping tightly around her waist. For the first time she held nothing back, and Carol dragged her fingers through his hair, finally allowing herself to enjoy the taste of his mouth, the feel of his hard body against hers. The scent of his skin, undeniable when she was this close, was intoxicating, and she was overwhelmed by all the sensations.

It felt just like nothing she had ever experienced before yet familiar, like it was meant to be this way, like sinking into some sensation that was both new and old at the same time, like being wrapped up in the best kind of memory. Her hands flew to the buttons on his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against hers and she struggled to get the top one open, yet keep her mouth on his at the same time.

Surprise barely had time to flit across Daryl's face before she had shoved him onto the bed, her heart thumping away in her chest at a rapid pace. By the time she had straddled his hips he was already reaching for her, his hands rising up to pull her head down to his waiting lips. The sensations running through her entire body were so intense that she felt the fear surface, the fear that always seemed to come along with the way Daryl made her feel. She pulled away, struggling to catch her breath and sat up, pushing her hair off her forehead.

"We should stop this," Carol tried to hold herself together.

Daryl stayed silent, holding onto her waist tighter. Like a vice grip. There was no way he was letting her up. Not now. Not after they had gotten this far. Not after tasting the sweetness from her now swollen lips.

"I'm not thinking straight. I'm angry. Frustrated. Upset. I'd just be using you." She sighed averting her eyes away from his hopeful ones.

Daryl just blinked at her. "Shit, I'm okay with that.

She let out a breath. "Well I'm not. Doing this would mean being the same as you and I told you I'd rather die."

Ignoring her protest, he tugged her back down, sealing her lips with his and she couldn't help but respond. The kind of sensations that he was capable of producing were just too much for her, and she found herself wondering if she was with Daryl, would be this good always, would it be this intense no matter what they did together – whether it be argue or make love? Would it be making love? Hardly. Carol had come to the conclusion that after days of them throwing angry filled words back and forth, they needed to relieve the tension that was brewing. That was all this was. The only thing that they both loved..was to hate each other.

Carol trailed her lips up his neck and pulled the lobe of his ear between her teeth gently, then sucked it between her lips. His whole body shivered and he clutched her firmly to his body. She couldn't help but feel pleased that she created such a strong reaction in him; it made her feel powerful, which helped to ease her nervousness.

She pulled away again, shrugging the nightgown straps from her shoulders before returning quickly to his eager mouth. One of his hands slid down her back and cupped her ass and she felt a jolt run through her body, ending at the apex of her thighs. Continuing to struggle with his buttons, she was finally able to get the top three undone, and she slid her hand inside, running her fingers over the warm skin. She leaned down to press a timid kiss against his shoulder and he used the opportunity to flip her beneath him, drawing her leg up to wrap around his waist and rocking his erection against her thigh.

After several minutes of tongue dueling, they finally pulled back to take a breath. Carol pressed wet, open mouthed kisses against his chest, as her nimble fingers worked their way towards his belt. His own fingers snaked into her loose curls as she slowly unbuckled his belt, looking up to meet his eyes. They were the colour of want as they watched her, his face full of desire.

 

She tugged the zipper of his jeans down; then pulled them off his hips entirely, her heart racing. She had never wanted a man quite like this, and she had definitely never just given in to her body's own desires. She had to admit, it felt great.

Carol chewed on her lower lip as she tucked her fingers underneath the waistband of his boxers and gingerly slid them down, her eyes locked on his the entire time. As the fabric rubbed over his erection on the way down.

Daryl's eyes fluttered closed, and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss against her lips. She slid her hand lazily down the front of his chest, over the lettering of his tattoo above his heart, over the faint pinkish scars that littered it and over his hips as she used her feet to slide his jeans and boxers off his legs the rest of the way.

Before she'd even had a chance to take a breath, Daryl's mouth was on her breast, his tongue swirling around her nipple. She gasped, her hands flying to his hair as he pulled her nipple into his mouth, sucking gently. By now her breasts were on full show and her flimsy nightgown rested around her tiny waist.

"Daryl." she moaned, as he moved from one breast to another. He already had his hand wrapped around the waistband of her underwear, and was struggling to pull them down as she moaned in response to his tongue.

He finally pulled away from her to drag her panties from her hips, shimmying them down her legs and pulling them completely off. When he returned, he straddled her gently, gazing down into her face, pausing to brush a strand of hair from her flushed cheeks. "Wanna be inside you." he said in a rush of air. "Want ya so bad."

Carol lifted her hand up to stroke his cheek, tenderness rushing through her at his neediness for her right now. She wanted to be held, to be intimate. She needed to hear those words. Even if they were from him. She'd worry about that in the morning when reality would strike once again. He caught her hand at his face and dragged her fingertips across his lips, kissing them almost tenderly.

Locking eyes with her, he reached for her slowly, his hand slipping between her legs and a moan rumbled low in her throat at the sight of him above her, at the touch of his hands.

"You feel so fuckin' soft," he said, his strong fingers slipping between her folds, caressing her until she pulled her lower lip between her teeth to keep from crying out

He looked hot; his eyes on her as he continued to touch her she could scarcely catch her breath. "Daryl," she whispered, her eyes growing heavy as he found her clit. "Oh my god."

He caught her lower lip between his teeth, running his tongue along the inside of her lip and she thrust her tongue to meet his. "Fuck, Carol," he whispered, slipping a finger deep inside of her.

She moaned, tossing her head. "Daryl, please."

He rotated his touch and dipped down again to capture her breast in her mouth again, swirling his tongue around the tip. "You taste so sweet," he groaned

Carol quivered underneath him, her whole body flushed from head to toe. "Please," she whispered again, nearly beside herself.

He slipped one more finger inside of her. "Please what?"

Carol gasped. "Take me," she begged. "Please."

 

Daryl rolled over, bringing her on top of him and sliding his fingers into her hair, dragging her mouth to his. Reaching blindly down onto the floor, he shoved his hand into the back pocket of his worn jeans, he tugged out his wallet, flipping it open as ran his fingers up her side, dancing against the skin of her belly.

As he tugged the condom from his wallet he pulled back for a second, cupping her face in his hands. "Carol," he whispered, trying to catch his breath. "Ya sure?"

She looked into his eyes, her fingers curling around his shoulders. Common sense said no, that tomorrow he would go back to the cold heartless bastard that he was made to be, but at that moment, looking into his eyes, she saw nothing but warmth, tenderness, desire, and... something else she couldn't quite place.

And to her, it just felt right.

"I'm sure," she whispered.

She rolled the condom over him slowly and he sighed at her touch, clutching her closer.

She paused for a moment, looking down at him. "Hey," she said softly. "Are you sure. I mean there's no coming back from this. If Blake finds out..?"

He swept her beneath him and she gasped, her arms winding around his neck. "Hell, m'sure," he said, capturing her mouth in a full kiss as he thrust deeply inside her.

Carol arched her back, bringing her legs up around his waist, moaning. The feel of him inside her after all this time was incredible, and she pressed frantic kisses against his shoulders and chest, her hips finding his rhythm quickly.

"Christ, you're fuckin' tight," he moaned, his body trembling as he quickened the pace. "You feel so good."

"So do you," she gasped, her mouth only inches from his. Daryl swept his tongue over her lower lip, looking into her baby blues. "Kiss me," she whispered.

He captured her mouth in the sweetest, deepest kiss she'd ever experienced, a kiss so intense it made her toes curl against his legs, made her heart slam against the walls of her chest.

 

Carol hadn't felt like this ever, hadn't had someone hold her close, clutch her body to theirs like they needed her. And Daryl? It didn't matter at the moment that he didn't love her; that she didn't know how she felt about him. It was the closest to love she'd come in a long time, and she was going to hold on to it and not let go for as long as she could. Even if it was only for one night.

He increased his rhythm, pressing his face against her neck, his lips against her skin as she raked her nails across his back, a moan escaping her lips. "Oh, god," she cried. "Daryl!"

"Carol!" he cried hoarsely, cupping her face with his palm. "I wanna see you, I wanna see your face when you come," he panted.

She was trembling everywhere, her hips matching his frantic pace. "I'm so close," she cried. "Oh, god."

And then it swept over her, all of a sudden, overtaking her entire body. It felt like falling, like each cell rippling, like every nerve end in her body was lit up like a Christmas tree at that very moment, and everything exploded within her.

Daryl wasn't much further behind her, and he let out a cry, muffled by her shoulder as he thrust once more up into her, hard, before collapsing onto the bed and sweeping her into his arms. Both in silent agreement that whatever the consequences of their actions, the worry could wait until morning.


	12. Chapter 12

Carol had been awake since first light. In fact, she wasn't sure her eyes had closed at all. She was too... she didn't even know what the right word was. Shell shocked? Disgusted? Her gaze had been fixed on the clothes still strewn across the room, her naked body shivering of its own accord beneath the thick duvet as she took in each and every article. She wanted so much to jump up and pull them on again, to cover herself. But her limbs were too heavy to allow her to move, so she shivered still, otherwise a dead weight upon the mattress.

She wanted to believe last night was real and in any other circumstance in any other place it could have been. But she knew it wasn't. How? Was the question that really flummoxed her. It had all just spiralled into this madness. For God's sake, she didn't even like him. And it appeared he still didn't think all that much of her or so she thought. Because Daryl, with one quick glance over his shoulder, so careless that he didn't even recognise she wasn't asleep, had gotten up and skulked soundlessly from the room. Even as she scooched further into the pillow, wishing with all her remaining power that she might sleep, or better still, that she might wake up from this very hideousness, resentment flooded her.

Not just for him, the hateful, using ass, but for herself. Because she'd let this happen as much as he had pushed for it. And why? Had she gone mad? Daryl had been gentle, attentive and caring which made her want what happened between them more. But once reality had hit after their second bout of intimacy, the air that had been filled with lustful moans turned cold and that's when she knew. Because now, now she was everything Philip Blake wanted her to be. Weak. Pathetic.

But Carol refused to be that way. In one great rush of determination, she kicked back the duvet and rushed around, snatching up her clothes, repulsed even as she simply touched them, as if they were contaminated. She threw them behind the bathroom door and got into the shower. The spray was scalding and Carol flinched, but bit hard into her lip to force herself back into it, needing to burn every trace of his filthy touch from her skin if that was the only way it could be.

Her skin was sizzling as she dressed. It was insane. She was a hostage, probably days away from her own slaughter and yet the first thing Blake had insisted she do was max out a credit card. "Making the lady comfortable" was how he put it, in that sickening hiss of his. Carol well aware she was probably committing fraud with every transaction given that she was not K S Jones, and that K S Jones was more probably at the bottom of a lake, or chopped up in a bin bag, she shopped, supervised of course, online spitefully. Oh, she intended to be comfortable. Covered in labels, not giving an ounce of her pride for these animals. Not ever.

At least, not until now. Was that the new game plan now? Seducing the victim, instead of just killing them she thought bitterly, her reflection scowling back out at her from the surface of the mirror as she pulled her hair up into a high ponytail; that was so damn classy. And an easy way to get laid for free in the line of duty. God, she still felt disgusting.

Carol whirled round in accusation as the door handle creaked. Recognising him, she smiled sarcastically. "No chance you might want to avoid me today then?"

He barely even blinked, his hands stowed in his pockets.

This made her scowl tighten, shaking her head in disgust as she narrowed her eyes. "What are you looking at?"

A jerk in his neck brought his gaze away. He nibbled at his lip and went over to the dresser, setting down a tiny, round container.

Carol frowned. "Whatever that is, I don't want it. Or are you supposed to force it down my throat?"

"S'not like that." he said gruffly.

"And I don't care what it's like. Whatever that nasty little poison is, I won't take it."

"Oh for fuck's sake, it's not gonna hurt ya. It's from the pharmacy." Carol reeled in confusion. Daryl looked awkwardly away and mumbled; "Look... last night, whatever..."

But she cut him off abruptly, snatching up the little container and rattling the little container accusingly. "What is this?"

Daryl stared at the floor. "It's the Morning After pill."

"My God, you think a lot of yourself..." she said icily.

"Look..the second time..we weren't..we didn't use.. jus'..jus' take the damn thing an' then we can... forget... jus' forget it happened."

"I don't need to take it, you bastard!" she yelled, flinging the container at him in her rage. "Is this new to you Daryl? Having a name, a face to put to your night's worth? Because believe me, I've always worked that way, and you sweetie, you weren't all that."

"Yeah." Daryl chuckled, scratching at the nape of his neck as he looked up. "I mean, everyone knows your reputation, maybe I jus' couldn't wait to get in on it?"

"What reputation?"

Daryl arched an eyebrow, smirking. "Ed Peletier ring any bells? He was runnin' his damn mouth 'bout ya all over Atlanta. I'd expect to be a disappointment after that sweetheart. I ain't got what he has."

"You haven't got much have you Daryl?" Carol retorted smartly.

"Oh, you weren't complainin'." He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Mind, I ain't really had much of that. Gotta be doin' somethin' right."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that."

Daryl just smirked. "I don't need to," he assured her softly. "You were doin' plenty of that for me."

"You make me feel sick."

"What? And nothin' more than that? Christ, you're an awful liar. Blake will enjoy that y'know. Did I mention he wants a word later?"

Carol tilted her head. "He can have several. None of them look good for you though Daryl. I mean, there's touching and then there's touching. Get what I mean? You must seriously have a death wish."

"Oh I get what you mean, Carol." he told her calmly, nodding. "You're sayin' you used me. Smart. Except you weren't."

"Oh, I so was."

"Yeah? So why ain't you takin' the pill? Don't want any nasty little surprises come the end of the month do we?"

Carol threw him a dark look. "Well, I'll tell you what Daryl, you give me the list, I'll get myself tested?"

"Take it."

"I told you, I don't need to."

"Well, I'm tellin' you, ya do."

"What's the matter? Can't handle your responsibilities? That's what I am right now. Unless of course you've already impregnated half the population of Georgia? God, I pity men like you."

"You wasn't pityin' me last night was you?"

But she smiled sweetly as she shook her head. "Of course not. How could I? One word and you're a dead man. Just like that guy last night? The one you were going to kill in front of me? Had to hold your attention somehow. And I have to hand it to you, you look pretty hot when you're angry. Really must mess with the latest intake Blake hauls in? All that new blood? So young, impressionable, confused? I bet they think the same."

Daryl reeled back in disgust. "You're crazy!"

"Me?" Carol shrieked, glaring at the little container on the carpet. "So are you if you think you can make me take that. One last time Daryl, loud and clear. I don't need the Pill! It wouldn't matter if I was working my way through all the lowlife in this place just to stop you killing each other to fill the time. None of you sad, pathetic little men are going to manage it, alright? If Ed was running his mouth about me all over town, I'm sure he would have mentioned it. Boastful about it even, I wouldn't be surprised to be honest. It's all down to his handiwork. That bastard is twisted in the head. I can't have kids. There. Happy now? Heaven knows why that has to matter now anyway or have you forgotten that your boss wants to kill me?"

As Daryl listened, his smile became a little wider with every word until he looked up into Carol's face, absorbing the etchings of fright on it.

 

"Kill you? He wants to take ya out to dinner. Enjoy that won't ya? I'll be gettin' an early night, someplace else."


End file.
